Healing Hope

Chapter 32

Fathers

“To become a father is not difficult, but to be a father is.”  Unknown

Dedicated to our “Adas” past and present. 

Elrond had sought refuge in Celebrían’s garden to order his thoughts before meeting with Celeborn, Galadriel and Mithrandir.  He had not told Celeborn and Galadriel of Estel’s presence...indeed, had not told Arwen either.  It was not the kind of information that could easily be put into a missive and sent by messenger.  Of course, they knew that Imladris had long fostered and protected the line of the kings, for Elros line was as much a part of Imladris as it was a part of Elrond. 

The familiar twinge of sorrow gripped his heart at the thought of his long dead brother, the twin who had chosen the way of men and mortality.  Elrond respected his brother’s choice, but that did not mean the ache of their severed bond could be put aside.  It was a pain that Elrond would endure through all the long years of his life, and he closed his eyes against the memory of shock and grief the severing had caused.

He must have sat that way, with head bowed and eyes closed, for some moments while his mind wandered the paths of memory, before a familiar presence touched his feä and small, soft hands gently took his own. 

“Arwen,” he breathed, opening his eyes and smiling as his daughter joined him on the bench and lightly rested her head on his shoulder.

“You always come here when you are troubled,” she observed.  “Whenever I smell these scents, I can still feel Naneth with us.”

“Her presence lingers in the garden she loved.”

“I wonder if I shall ever feel so at home any place else,” she sighed.

Elrond smiled and kissed her forehead. “Are we going to have that conversation once more?”

Arwen laughed at the shared memory her father’s words recalled.

Elrond was working in his library while Arwen played with her dolls on a small pallet underneath the table where he was writing.  It was a bit crowded, but a small price to pay for her happiness.  Arwen had cried and cried when she was not allowed to accompany her brothers and Glorfindel on a trip to Lórien.  Nothing he or Celebrían could say seemed to soothe the hurt she felt at being left behind.

As the twins took their leave, Elrond, Celebrían and Arwen stood on the front steps of the last homely house bidding them a safe journey while Arwen clung to her father, hiding her tears – she thought – from her brothers.

“Why can I go not with them, Ada?” she asked as they rode out of sight.

“Arwen, you are far too young to make such an arduous journey.  Your mother and I will take you to visit Lórien when you are older.”

“Why does everything have to be when I am older, Ada?”

Elrond looked down at the face of his daughter and stroked the tear stained cheeks.  “It only seems that way now, child.  Bring your dolls and you may play in the library with me.  Would you like that?”

Delight filled Arwen’s eyes as she nodded her head.  Arwen dearly loved to be allowed into Elrond’s library, for she associated the scents of the rich leather tomes, the sheen of the lemon oiled woods, and the overall masculine feel of the place with her father.  It was Celebrían who normally kept Arwen playing in other areas of the house so that Elrond could work because Arwen chattered amiably and almost non-stop when she played with her dolls. 

Now virtually at her Ada’s feet she pretended that the table over head was a deep, dark cave where she and her dolls were captive.  She had no fear, however, because she had no doubts but that her Ada would come to her rescue.  He could defeat any evil.

Celebrían stood silhouetted in the doorway for a few moments while enjoying the sight before her.  Arwen had her pallet pulled completely under the table and was leaning back against Elrond’s legs as she chattered away to her dolls.  For his part, Elrond was gamely attempting to work at his text while ignoring the childish conversation taking place at his feet.  She would have moved into the library to lure Arwen away had not a hand stayed her forward motion.

“Leave her, my lady,” whispered Erestor.  “My little bird needs her Ada today.”

Celebrían’s musical laughter graced the seneschal’s ears as she gave his arm a squeeze. “Erestor, she has you wrapped around her little finger, along with everyone else in Imladris.  How blessed I am that my daughter is so loved.  It comforts me to know that she will be cared for...” her voice trailed off as her features clouded.

“Why, whatever do you mean?” asked Erestor, alarmed at the unexpected turn the conversation had taken.

Celebrían shook her head as though to dispel the worrisome thoughts and laughed again.  “Oh, I do not know, my friend.  Sometimes I just get the feeling that I will not be here for them when they need me the most.  It is most annoying; this ability of mine to feel what might be ahead.”  She took a deep breath and released it with a small chuckle.  “My Adar used to tell me that I was borrowing trouble when I felt this way.”

“Lord Celeborn is ever wise, my lady,” soothed Erestor.  “Imladris loves her mistress as she loves little Arwen.  Every warrior here would gladly give his life to protect you, if your husband and sons did not beat them to it.”

“I am being silly, my friend.  Forgive me?” asked Celebrían, as she linked her arm with Erestor’s elbow.  “Let us go tend my roses.  That always lifts my spirits.”

“An excellent idea, my lady,” agreed Erestor. “I will ask cook to prepare some tea for us as well.  We might as well enjoy the beautiful day.”

Celebrían laughed again.  “You are just missing Glorfindel and sad that he will not be around for a while for you to tease.  You do not fool me for one moment.”

Completely unaware of the conversation in the doorway, Arwen played contentedly at her father’s feet until an idea came into her mind.

“Ada?”

“Yes, Arwen?”

“Will you always love me?”

Elrond smiled to himself as he thought about the joyful child at his feet.  “Yes, Arwen, I will always love you.”

“Even when I’m naughty?” she inquired.

Elrond’s eyebrow twitched a bit at that question.  “Do you plan on being naughty?”

“Oh no, Ada, it just seems to happen sometimes.  I don not know why.”

“I see,” replied Elrond.  He bent his head back over his work, for he assumed his daughter’s question had been answered.

“Ada?”

Elrond resisted the urge to sigh, and sat aside the quill he had been holding.  “Yes, daughter?”

“Will you marry me when I am old enough?”

Elrond had not expected that question.  It was certainly not one he had ever heard from the twins.  He scooted his chair back so that he could look at the little one at his feet.  “Why would you ask that, Arwen?”

Solemn blue eyes met his.  “Because, Ada, I want to stay with you and Naneth forever and never leave Imladris.”

Elrond smiled and gathered her onto his lap.  Only an hour ago she was crying brokenheartedly because she could not go to Lórien.  Arwen snuggled in her Ada’s lap, resting her head against his chest so that she could hear his heart beat while he stroked her hair.  She loved it when her Ada stroked her hair.

Elrond continued to hold his daughter, soothing her fears.  “Imladris will always be your home, my child.  No one will ever force you from her gates.”

Arwen sighed contentedly.  She felt safe again and sure that she would always be with her Naneth and Ada.  “Ada?”

Elrond could not help the smile that graced his face.  His child was ever full of questions.  “Yes, daughter?”

“Can Elladan and Elrohir stay with us forever too...and Glorfindel and Erestor?”

With this question Elrond realized the heart of Arwen’s fear.  She had just watched three elves that she loved, who were an integral part of her life, ride away to be gone for many months.  Though time is not marked by elves the same way it would be by humans, a child is a child, whatever the race, and to children time was always measured by absence.  “I can think of no reason that your brothers would ever choose to leave you, Arwen.”

“What about Glorfindel and Erestor?”

“Nor Glorfindel and Erestor,” added Elrond.  “Does that answer all your questions?”

“Yes, Ada.”  Arwen reached up to finger one of Elrond’s braids. “ Ada?”

Elrond fought to kept the laughter from his voice, for his daughter’s tender feelings were dear to him.  “Yes, child?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Arwen.”

Father and daughter shared the memory together in the garden they both loved.

Arwen sighed.  “Why did it all have to change?”

Elrond slipped his arm around his daughter’s shoulders as though to shield her from any more suffering.  He could offer her no words of comfort for a moment because he had asked himself the same question countless times.

Sensing her father’s feä, Arwen reached up to stroke his face. “Tell me about Estel.  Never before have you quartered one of Uncle Elros’ line on the third floor.”

Elrond smiled at his daughter.  As dark as Celebrían was fair, Arwen yet shared her mother’s heart when it came to reading his thoughts.  “Estel is very special.  I...” he paused, momentarily unsure of how to express all that he felt.

Arwen drew back, intrigued at her father’s uncharacteristic loss for words.  “Tell me, Ada,” she encouraged, “for I can see that he is dear to you and the twins.  Is it he that has helped them to heal, for I can no longer feel the rage within them.  Is that why you call him Estel?  I have never met a human with that name.”

“And just how many humans have you met?”

Arwen chuckled, pleased that she had been able to turn her father from the darker thoughts of loss and separation.  “Only the ones who have stayed here through the years, I admit, never one in Lórien.  Haldir practically bristles at the mere mention of a human.  I cannot imagine what he would do should one actually enter the golden wood.”

“Haldir has reason to feel as he does,” Elrond replied softly, “but let us not speak of that now.”

“You were telling me about Estel,” she prompted.

Elrond thought through his words.  “Estel was little more than a baby when your brothers brought him and his mother here.  Gilraen died within a short while, leaving the child an orphan.”

Compassion blazed in Arwen’s heart.  “He lost both of his parents?” 

“Yes,” Elrond confirmed.  “But he is not without family, for we have taken him into ours. He is as my son.”

Arwen blinked, surprised at his words.  “Your...son?”

Elrond nodded, willing his daughter to understand.  “Having a small child to nurture was quite an adjustment...for all of us.”  He smiled, taking her hands into his own.  “You should see your brothers with him, Arwen.  They are so protective of him, and he idolizes them.  He is only four years old.”

“And you, Ada?” she questioned. “He filled the hole in you as well; I can see it.” 

“Nothing will ever completely fill the void in my life until I am once again reunited with your mother, but Estel has made the wait more bearable.  I find that I enjoy having a child around the house once more, though he does not ask quite so many questions as you did.”  He squeezed her hands gently.  “I do not replace you or your mother, Arwen.”

“Oh Ada,” she cried, laying her head against his chest like she did when she was a little girl, “forgive me!  I was only jealous for a moment.”

Elrond hugged his daughter close and kissed her hair.  “All of my children are dear to me, and each holds a unique place in my heart, but you, Undómiel, are the only daughter I shall ever have.”

“When can I meet him?” she asked. 

“He is not here.  He is on his way to Mirkwood,” Elrond replied.

Arwen sat up to look at her father’s face.  “Because of the orcs that Erestor mentioned?”  A quick flash of emotion touched her features before she could hide it.  “Ada, were there really orcs here, in Imladris?”

Elrond knew his daughter well...knew every nuance of her features, every timbre of her voice.  “Orcs have entered the valley, but none have been near to our home.  You are safe here.”

“I do not fear them!” 

The anger in her voice shocked him for a second.  “Then perhaps I should say that they are safe from you,” he said wryly.  His little girl was truly a warrior maiden now.

From a short distance away, Glorfindel kept watch over father and daughter.  No evil would touch them while he was near.

O-o-O-o-O

After sharing his meal with the elves, Estel settled back against Thranduil’s chest, sated and warmed by the fire. The rain had stopped and a heavy mist now hung in the evergreens clinging to the foothills of the aptly named Misty Mountains.  The air was damp and the wind biting, but the small group was protected from it by the three remaining walls of the battered cottage.  Estel was still exhausted from then nighttime flight and would have slept on had the crashing thunder not awakened him earlier.  Now he found his eyes drifting shut, but fought sleep as most children do.

“Tell me a story, Legolas.  You tell good stories,” he said sleepily.  “Did King Thran-due teach you to tell stories?”

Legolas met his father’s eyes with a smile.  “No, Estel, my Adar did not teach me the stories.  It was Lore Master Nárë who did.  He is a very great elf, and you will meet him when we get to Mirkwood.”

But Estel did not hear the prince’s words for he was already fast sleep.

Falathar chuckled at the sight.  “He looks just like an overstuffed piglet at his mother’s teat...”  The elf’s words trailed off as he caught Thranduil’s eye and realized that he had just compared his king to a sow.  “I mean, I did not mean, sire....”

Thranduil held his glare for only a moment before allowing himself to smile.  “Peace, Falathar; you are forgiven...this time.”

 The soft laughter of the elves filled the air.  The truth be known, they were all relieved to be headed back to Mirkwood.

TBC